


Aggressive Conservative Guys

by Anonymous



Category: Fake News FPF
Genre: Drunk Dialing, Dubious Consent, M/M, Phone Sex, Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which "Stephen" can imagine a lot of lurid scenarios between Jon and certain guests, drunk-dials Jon to yell at him about them, and remains completely oblivious as Jon's reaction evolves from "this is ridiculous and kind of offensive" to "actually, this is pretty hot." (This would be a more straightforward NTR fantasy if Stephen weren't 100% repressed about everything.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aggressive Conservative Guys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roscavenbar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roscavenbar/gifts).



> Fill for a stray Third Monday prompt: _"Stephen" has noticed the very intense chemistry that Jon often has with big burly aggressive conservative guys - e.g. Bill O'Reilly, Mike Huckabee, Chris Christie - and he's simultaneously jealous and turned on._
> 
> Christie (post-Sandy, pre-Bridgegate), O'Reilly, and Huckabee appear only in fantasy form.

"I have just about _had_ it with you, mister!"

On the other end of the line, Jon sighed in a way that suggested he just might not be taking his condemnation seriously. "Hi, Stephen. Can we make this quick? I was just about to get in the shower."

"Oh, nice try, Jon," scoffed Stephen. "As if you can just wash off the shame."

"Right, fine, I'll bite. The shame of what?"

"You used to run a family show!" Stephen took another gulp of the cocktail he'd finished mixing right before deciding to make this call. "And now look at you. Respectable guests come on — good, decent family men — and you, you turn it into something _obscene_. I don't know how they let tonight's interview on the air!"

"...the one with Chris Christie?"

"Well, it sure wasn't the one with Kermit the Frog!"

There was a faint creaking of springs, from a chair or something. Probably Jon was accepting that he was going to be doing this for a while, and might as well sit down. "Did you actually watch the interview? Preferably with the sound on? Because I thought I was pretty critical for most of it. I mean, there was some mutual love for Jersey, but that's entirely G-rated as long as you don't get into specifics."

"You're forgetting something, Jon. I _know_ you. I know what goes on in that twisted liberal latte-sipping head of yours, and at that moment it was deliberate seduction! Arguing with these men is all part of your flirting strategy."

"Wait, 'these men'?"

"That's right. Your _type_."

"I have a type," echoed Jon dubiously.

"Did you think people wouldn't notice? You and Christie, you and Huckabee, you and Papa Bear, it's always the same story. You go for the intelligent, genial, broad-shouldered conservative guys, and then give them the one-two punch of adorable fake-innocent and sassy critic until they're just _dying_ to shut your smart mouth up."

"Stephen...all the other problems with that statement aside...Chris Christie was basically a giant teddy bear." (Stephen hissed through his teeth.) "Sorry. Plush puppy, then. He wasn't interested in, uh, shutting anybody's smart mouth up."

"Yeah," crooned Stephen in a low, got-you-now voice. "I bet that was frustrating for you, wasn't it?"

"...what?"

"Your whole foolproof plan for getting some, and it just falls apart." Stephen leaned forward, elbows on the table, idly stirring his drink. "Must have been difficult. Probably followed him backstage afterward, desperate for one more chance to mouth off at him."

"O...kay," said Jon slowly. "Do you...think that would have worked?"

"I don't know!" He hadn't thought through all these details. Now, though, with the new information Jon had let slip, it started to come together. "Probably not the way you imagined! Even though now that you're backstage, no more cameras and no more desk, you can go to town. Sidle up against him, swing those hips, practically grind on his leg while you're forcing him to admit that Obama did something competent. But Christie's not falling for it, he pulls a fast one on you, outright admits you have a point, he's not Republican enough to put politics over the welfare of his state." Stephen pulled a face. "Oh, god, that's what did it, isn't it? You traded a couple of tender memories about New Jersey and next thing you know you were making out. It was _sentimental_."

"Uh-huh," said Jon. "It isn't usually sentimental, then?"

"No! Don't get me wrong, it's still pushy," added Stephen. "I mean, the guy has at least four inches on you, and on top of that he's huge. Could probably pin you against the wall without even trying. You could squirm all you wanted and it wouldn't do any good — you're just too tiny."

"If this was my plan all along, why am I squirming at all?"

"Habit? Inherent contrariness? I don't know _everything_ about your aforementioned twisted latte-sipping mind!"

"Of course not."

"I accept your apology," said Stephen primly. "Probably didn't last long, anyway. Eventually you'd have to give in to your gratefulness for his dedication to your favorite state...which he has to run and get back to, but he would've had time to accept a quick handjob, right? Did you keep letting him kiss you while you jerked him off?"

"That man has done a tremendous job and I would probably let him kiss me if he really wanted to," admitted Jon.

As far as Stephen was concerned, that was as good as a full confession. "I _knew_ it!"

"But what about the rest of them? How are you thinking it usually goes? Take Huckabee. What's it like when he comes over?"

"Oh, Huckabee's not usual either." Stephen downed another swallow of his drink. "There's no ruffling that man. You try to smart-mouth him and he just lets it wash on by, never comes back with less than perfect congenial Southern hospitality. Even when he corners you after, he's nothing but nice. Makes mild nonjudgmental comments on how tense you seemed out there...wouldn't just be putting his hand on yours by this point, he'd be giving you long strokes all the way up to your face like a skittish pony, trying to make you calm down."

"Do I have to be a pony?" interrupted Jon.

"Your analogous animal identity is not essential to the progression of this story, no!" shot back Stephen. "Why, what animal _do_ you act like when this happens?"

"I'm not saying it happens, I'm just saying, you know, you could pick a more flattering analogy for a guy," hedged Jon, trying to backtrack, as if he wasn't _so_ nailed. "I mean, just going by the usual clichés in this scenario, isn't there any chance you would have jumped to, oh, picking something at random here, a restless stallion?"

"Jon, if you're going to interrupt me, it has to be for something that isn't stupid," said Stephen testily. "You're a pony. End of discussion. No wonder even Huckabee snaps around you."

"He snaps?" echoed Jon.

"Oh, he definitely snaps. In a congenial way, of course! Pushes you down on your back on the green room couch, puts his hand over your mouth, and just leans into it. He's not as beefy as Christie, but so few men are, and he's got the height...yeah, he could hold you there. You hate that, don't you? Try to push his arm away, keep making muffled noises through his hand...it's practically pathological, this need you have to always be talking."

"Yes," deadpanned Jon. "It's a terrible character flaw."

"I'm glad you recognize that!" When had Stephen's drink run out? He poured himself another. "It's sexual frustration, obviously. Maybe you think you're hiding it, but we can all tell. Huckabee's a smart guy, he'll have it figured out in an instant. And he'll explain that to you, very gently and politely, while he's also-gently undoing your pants."

"Mmmm."

"You can't keep struggling long after that. Because this was what you wanted all along, wasn't it? And even if you weren't, you're weak to this, Jon, you can't say no to a guy's hand on your dick. You quit thrashing around because you're getting swept into it, too busy rocking your hips up into his fist to think about anything else." A sudden realization hit him. "The green room door doesn't lock!"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

"Obviously nobody's caught you yet, or I would've heard about it," continued Stephen. "But my god, Jon, how can you be so inconsiderate? Someone could walk in at any second and there you'd be, with the moaning and the thrusting and the pants wide open — don't you think about that at all?"

"Little preoccupied," agreed Jon, in a breathless sort of voice. "What happens next?"

"Oh, Huckabee's good. He rolls with everything, gets you off, never breaks eye contact...waits until he's sure you're just flopping there, mellow and relaxed, all the fight worn out of you, before he lets your mouth free. Probably can't do more than gasp for a while after that anyway."

"Mmhmm."

"And then it's back to the petting, only now it's a reward, and he'll say something like _there now, doesn't that feel better?_ Hell yes it feels better. I sure hope you thank him after that."

"Sure," panted Jon. "You, uh. You said something about. O'Reilly?"

Stephen groaned. "Don't get me started! I bet the two of you have a whole routine worked out by now. Do you even still make him work for it, or do you just automatically get on your knees the minute he shows up in your office?"

"...Guess."

"Oh, I bet you know your place with him by now. Bet he doesn't even have to wait until after the interview. You could still be working on the show and you'd make everyone clear out, lock the office door, there he is in a beautiful tailored suit and you're still the slob in the T-shirt. It's _embarrassing_ , Jon."

"Yeah." Jon's voice had gone all low and scratchy. "Yeah, it is."

"You'd practically have to kneel out of shame alone. Does he lean on the wall for leverage, or does he just sit on your couch? No, wait —" Stephen interrupted himself as the image snapped with perfect clarity into his head. "He sits against the arm of the couch, doesn't he? Has to loom over you as much as possible, but he's got to bend his legs a little, or you'll never reach all the way up them."

"Mmmm."

"Bet he doesn't have to say a word. One look and you're down, doing all the work for him, whipping it out and taking it in your mouth all by yourself," hissed Stephen. "You know you have to be good for him, because he's not just big and aggressive, he would absolutely smack you around until it hurt if he had to."

Jon moaned.

"But even for him, you can't let it be that simple, can you?" demanded Stephen, pounding his drink on the table. "Not being able to talk won't stop you! You can still smirk at him, raise your eyebrows, pull all the expressions you use in the really scathing segments — O'Reilly can have his cock halfway down your throat and you can still be acting like you're mocking him!"

Jon was getting seriously intimidated now, judging by how hard he was breathing. And no, Stephen was not going to let him off the hook because of it. A strong scare might be exactly what Jon needed to learn a little modesty. It was for his own good.

"He won't let you get away with it, though," continued Stephen, with absolute confidence. "Papa Bear knows how to shut you up. You try to pull a stunt like that, he'll just have to grab your head and fuck your face so hard —"

"— ah —"

"— you won't know up from down any more, let alone how to look smug, you'll barely have the presence of mind to keep yourself from _choking_ —"

"— ohgod —"

"— he'll come and you'll swallow, you'll have to, he's got his hands all twisted up in your hair and he isn't going to let you pull back until he's damn sure you've taken it all — Jon, are you even listening to me?"

It was a couple of beats before Jon managed to answer. "Yeah," he panted, sounding a little less terrified. He was getting more air, taking deeper breaths. "Yeah, I'm listening."

"Are you sure? Because you sound very distracted!"

"Stephen, believe me, I was hanging on to every word."

"Good, because I —"

"Sorry, but do you mind if we stop here? If you have more yelling to do, maybe we could pick it up some other time? It really is getting late, and it sounds like about time for you to cut yourself off and go lie down anyway."

"We can be done with this for good if you've learned your lesson," said Stephen testily. Did Jon think he had only been doing all this to keep his shouting muscles in shape?

"Uh-huh," said Jon. "How about this. I swear to you that at no time in the future will I, uh, offer myself up for a sexual situation with Chris Christie, Mike Huckabee, or Bill O'Reilly. Nor will I accept any offers from them. Is that acceptable?"

"Jo-on!" slurred Stephen. "Do you have no idea how to _generalize_?"

"Well, I don't want to rule out _all_ aggressive conservative guys," said Jon pleasantly. "Listen, Stephen, this has been really educational, but I..." He paused for a hearty yawn. "...think I'm just gonna turn in now. Talk to you later."

"Wait!" shouted Stephen. "What are you implying? Which angry Republican are you still trying to entice into banging you? Jon, answer me!"

But it was too late. The double image of the phone screen that swam in front of him indicated that Jon had already hung up.


End file.
